


Contact

by Novantinuum (ChromaticDreams)



Series: Brandishing the Star: A Crystal Gem's Guide to the Universe (SU shorts) [14]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon-Typical Violence, Corrupted Gems, Cracked Gems, Gem missions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Set during the 2 year time skip, This piece is kinda in conversation with An Indirect Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22959922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromaticDreams/pseuds/Novantinuum
Summary: The first (and with any luck,only)time it happens, he’s almost 16.
Relationships: Amethyst & Steven Universe, Blue Diamond & Steven Universe, Greg Universe & Steven Universe, Pearl & Steven Universe
Series: Brandishing the Star: A Crystal Gem's Guide to the Universe (SU shorts) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491011
Comments: 139
Kudos: 421





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> As a warning to anyone who may be sensitive to this sort of stuff, this chapter includes a short depiction of vomiting. 
> 
> Chapters 1 through 3 also involve repeated depictions of seizure-like events.
> 
> This chapter is almost whump worthy due to the POV, so be aware. The rest of the fic will be less so.

The first (and with any luck, _only)_ time it happens, he’s almost 16.  
  
His birthday’s only half a week out. Exciting as always, or at least it would be in other circumstances. Unfortunately, the Diamonds are breathing down his neck for him to celebrate his sweet sixteen (not that they understand what that is) on Homeworld. Even unfortunatelier, (is that a word?? He has a gut feeling Connie would tell him no, but oh well), the last time he saw Blue Diamond face-to-face, she mentioned wanting to personally throw a huge planet-wide ball in his honor.  
  
And yeah, maybe he’s a little selfish for spurning their desire to spend more time with him, but truth be told, the center of attention is the last place he wants to be right now. He’s already spent so much time in their company over the past year, being carted around from planet to planet, formerly introduced in front of thousands of Gems on those outer colony worlds, tirelessly working to spread the news of the empire’s dissolution day in and day out. He’s tired. He misses his friends. He craves the privacy of his home, where he’s not constantly flanked by the volunteer guard when he so much as moves to fetch a midnight snack. More than anything, he needs familiarity. He wants to celebrate his birthday on Earth— like he always has— guilt-free.  
  
Which is why it sucks that Blue didn’t take his gentle turn-down well.  
  
“Seriously, and then she made you _cry_ again?!” Amethyst spits out, kicking a rock as they tromp through the dense woods. “I thought you said she was getting better with that!”  
  
“She is,” he says, and ducks to clear a low branch. “This is the first time she’s done it in like, five months. Growth isn’t always linear, y’know? And I get it, I do. They just wanna spend time with me, wanna learn more about all the human stuff that makes me who I am. That’s fine! I just...”  
  
Steven sighs softly and pauses to lean against a sturdy tree trunk, puffy moss coating its entire diameter. The blistering summer heat coaxes droplets of sweat from his brow, which roll across cheekbones and towards his jaw. (And in the wake of this, he can’t help but be reminded of that bizarrely foreign feeling, of crying tears that aren’t his own, without consent, without resolve...)  
  
“Wish it didn’t happen right before your birthday?” she tentatively completes, tone softer.  
  
He shrugs, expression guarded.  
  
Her lips purse as she regards him, and she goes silent. For a split second he wonders if maybe she heard something stalking around nearby— perhaps one of the straggling corrupted Gems they‘re trying to track down today? But no, more than likely, she’s probably lost in thought. That’s not uncommon for her, outside the heat of the moment. Even though she has the reputation of being the most impulsive of the four of them, there’s a clear deliberateness about her nature that often goes unstated. Her actions and words may be blunt, but when it really matters she _does_ stack a lot of intent behind them.  
  
Heh. She’s the mature one, alright.  
  
“What did you tell her? Specifically?” she asks after a brief pause, peering at him with a careful eye.  
  
He squints, grasping to remember the fine details of what he said. “Just... that I normally spend my birthday with all of you here on Earth, and after all the nonstop planet touring kinda, _maybe_ wanted to take some time alone?”

Amethyst nods, giving a sharp bark of laughter at this.

“Hah! Then don’t worry about it, m’dude! Sounds to me like you stood your ground and spoke your mind. Don’t be guilty about that for even a second.”  
  
“But- it’s not like her wanting me to spend time with them is wrong, so by turning her down, wasn’t I being kinda ru—“  
  
His rapidly spiraling thoughts are cut off at the root by a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Okay, listen,” she says in that unmistakable ‘Serious Amethyst’ voice of hers, which of course means that she’s— well... that she‘s absolutely 100% being serious. “One thing ya’ gotta learn is that some people are just super tiring to deal with 24/7. It’s not wrong to set boundaries with them. All this junk? With Blue D? Far as I’m concerned, you handled it perfectly! And if she wants to cry about it, then that’s her problem.” Smiling, she reaches over to playfully muss his hair. “I’m super proud of you, ‘kay?”  
  
He responds with a weak grin. Inwardly he still has his doubts, but he knows all too well that trying to argue against her when she’s in ‘Serious Amethyst’ mode is like standing on the shore trying to single handedly hold back the tides of the sea. Even a powerful terraforming Gem like Lapis would eventually be worn down by the ocean’s ceaseless tenacity. It’s best, then, to keep one’s objection silent.  
  
So he’ll just stew in guilt quietly, no problem. Absolutely no problem here, no siree!  
  
Before he can let that stew churn in the pot any longer however, a tree crashes to the forest floor with a colossal rumble nearby. A cluster of unsettled birds shoot into the sky from the boughs. Ground shaking under the unrest, the two of them dart to cling upon anything they can— bark covered trunks, each other— for balance. Thankfully it’s over in a few seconds, the local ecosystem quickly rebounding to its usual chittering atmosphere. But there’s now a lingering unease hanging like a curtain over this forest, a physical aura of dread, and despite his best efforts it’s one he can’t manage to ignore. He lets out a still breath. The back of his neck prickles. Geeze, just how big _is_ this corrupted Gem they’re after?  
  
Instinctively, he summons his shield, brings it in front of his torso. Pearl’s training echoing like a catchy earworm in his mind, he steps one foot back to widen his stance. Truth be told, with all of his political service on Homeworld it’s been a while (easily half a year!) since he’s actually used his shield in active combat— but he’s sure muscle memory will carry him through. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. It’s gotta be like riding a bicycle, right?  
  
“You see something?” she whispers, lowering on her haunches. Her fingers twitch with anticipation at her side.  
  
His brow furrows tight, eyes skittering through the visible tree line. “Not yet, but...”  
  
Then, in a resolute answer to the question of the hairs raised at the nape of his neck, a skinny blur of steely blue and moss green suddenly swipes down from the branches at breakneck speed. He jerks his shield over his head in a flash.

 _Clang._ Perfect timing.

(The force of the collision against reinforced hard light sends vibrations up his arms.)

Meanwhile, Amethyst yelps, only barely ducking from the spiked tail in time. She somersaults forward and immediately summons her whip as she regains her footing. In one fluid motion she snaps it at the rapidly moving blur. He grins at the sight.

_Contact!_

The corrupted Gem— her body long and willowy, able to skitter between limbs and leaves with zero effort whatsoever— screeches at the assault. All four of her beady eyes hone in on the pair of them.  
  
They square up for battle, standing back to back.  
  
“Here we go,” Amethyst says, flicking her wrist to switch the weapon’s tri-ended tip into its spiked counterpart. “Keep me covered. Whatever you do, don’t take your eyes off the trees.”  
  
With a mighty yell, she moves to attack again. However, the creature anticipates it this time... and dodges.  
  
Once. Twice. Thrice...  
  
Every single lash she tries to land fares the same, with the Gem perfectly zig-zagging out of range at the last second. Even when Steven hurls his shield in coordination with her offensive strikes. Even when the quartz brings out a second whip to the party. It’s like trying to desperately keep hold of a wet bar of soap. The very moment you think you have it secure in your grasp, it slips away once more. Weird... he swears that thing is predicting their every move. What kind of Gem is she? A sapphire, maybe? Surely there had to have been a few other sapphires on Earth at the time of corruption. They’re a rare sort, but it’s certainly not impossible. Not at all.  
  
They’ll know when they poof her, of course. No sense fixating on it in the heat of battle.  
  
In the corner of his eye he catches that barbed tail swing from above, vying to surprise them from their blind spot, and summons his bubble around them. Its surface ripples upon impact, but holds strong. His fellow battle partner follows the creature’s erratic movements rapturously as she recovers.  
  
“Tell me when,” he huffs for breath, watching the Gem circle around them and slash at the surrounding trees in a vain attempt at intimidation.  
  
“Drop on three,” she says. “Your call.”  
  
“Okay...”  
  
Steven steels his nerves, inhaling deep, and focusing on the reliable hum of hard light running from his core outwards. _Just relax. It’s all training. All stuff you’ve done a million times before. You’ve got this._ _  
_  
Working off the emerging rhythm of the creature’s strikes, he begins his count.  
  
“One—“  
  
Amethyst’s fists clench tighter.  
  
“Two...”  
  
The creature’s tail slams against the bubble and rebounds once again.  
  
“Three!” he shouts, and throws his arms out, popping the bubble in a startling explosion of glittering pink.  
  
The Gem howls. She’s thrown against a cluster of trees by the force of his magic’s kickback. Amethyst throws all of her energy into her spin-dash, and surges towards her with all the strength of a typhoon.  
  
He summons two shields in turn, working light on his feet as he hurls them full force one after the other, desperately hoping to poof this poor creature as quickly and painlessly as he can manage. She’s strong, though. Incredibly strong— which gives more credence to his theory of this Gem being aristocratic in origin. Before Era 3, Homeworld used to endow the most ‘important’ Gems with greater durability. If she were a corrupted quartz or ruby, both easily poofed Gems, they’d have finished the fight by now.  
  
“Hey!” Amethyst calls as she continues on the offensive, finally looping the Gem’s torso. “All this?” She gives a mighty battle cry, and swings her slender, scaly body over her head. Screeching, the corruption crashes headfirst into the dirt a good twenty feet away. “Is starting to get _way_ too annoying. Ya’ wanna let Smoky take this one?”  
  
Steven gives a playful laugh, averting his normally watchful gaze from the creature for a split second to face her. “You bet I do!”  
  
And that’s when what should have been an incredibly straightforward mission goes very, very wrong.  
  
All because he forgot to be careful. For one tiny, should’ve-been-insignificant moment.  
  
He’s reaching out for a high five, fingers splayed outwards. His gem glows, the two of them so intrinsically in sync by now that he’s already anticipating their fusion.  
  
But his hand never finds its match.  
  
Instead, the end of the corrupted Gem’s mace-like tail swings back around and slams into his gut with the force of a freight train, knocking the wind clear out of him.

_Contact._

Following momentum, his body spins a good hundred feet away from Amethyst before she can ever try to catch him with her whip... and he crashes headfirst into a startlingly solid tree trunk. He falls to the forest floor like nothing more than an abandoned rag doll.  
  
 _“Steven!!”_ she shrieks from afar.  
  
Ears ringing. Head pounding. Heart throbbing. Veins pumped full of static.  
  
 _(Inhale.)_ _  
_  
H-he- surely he‘s not—!  
  
 _(Just inhale!)_ _  
_  
Black feathers the edges of his vision, looming like a reaper. It’s wrong. It’s real, but it’s all so distant, so wrong. Stubbornly, he gasps for breath. Refusing to let himself go unconscious. Not here, not now. But it’s so tempting, gosh is it tempting. His whole body feels numb and battered, his whole body feels...  
  
There’s a twisting in his gut. His eyes shoot wide.  
  
 _Oh..._ _  
_  
The sensation (again, _wrong,_ sickly and wrong) rises in his throat faster than he can identify it by name, and it’s then that he’s thrown back into sobering reality. Arms quivering to hold up his weight, he pushes his upper body up off the dirt just before he retches. Once, twice, three times- all on quick succession. Ugh. So much for breakfast. His muscles ache as he desperately attempts to recover, attempts to shift his view away from the appalling sight of his own vomit. Everything is woozy, blurred, spinning around him. His- oh stars, his head is suddenly as heavy as lead...! Where’s Amethyst?? Why do his arms and legs feel all tingly and faint? Why can he only barely lift himself up? He gives a keening cry as a pulsing throb of static shoots in staccato bolts like lightning from his very core, his center, h-his— he can’t think, _he can’t think, he can’t—_ _  
_  
Breathing ragged, he collapses onto his side and rides through the spasms, his every muscle jerking against his command. His cheek sags against the ground once the fit reaches its end.  
  
He lays there in a daze for a good long while, letting his vision grow unfocused and blurred in his exhaustion. From his creased brow, sweat drips in the sweltering August heat, staining the soil below. Conflict rages on in the distant background— Amethyst running solo?— yet he can’t keep track of the action by sound alone. It’s... too much sensory input. More than he can handle, by a long shot. Every bit of his universe now is faint and weak and _pain pain pain pain pain,_ but he manages to shift his arm just enough to slip his hand under his shirt, blindly grasping for his gem... working off a terrible, horrifying hunch.  
  
Shaking fingers find their way to warm crystal, tracing the outer edges, and then—  
  
He traces a deep gouge, running diagonal clear across the center facet.  
  
 _Cracked._ _  
_  
And with that realization, any remnant of calm he had left flies straight out the window. Another spike of static rips through his body (fuzzy images of Amethyst, 100% hard light body glitching out and unable to hold its shape, pervade his mind) as he makes rapid shallow gasps for air and seizes, trying in vain not to think too hard about what’s physically happening to him.  
  
 _(I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m—)_ _  
_  
“Steven!” Amethyst shouts, diving to his side in an instant. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m so sorry, it wasn’t safe, an’ I knew I had to bubble her before I- ‘fore I could—“  
  
His wide eyed fear silences her even faster than his words. “H- Amethyst,” he rasps, voice hoarse. He blinks as tears begin to slip from between his lashes.

Near indistinguishable blurs of purple and black are his only metric for her movement now. He’s rolled onto his back. A hand moves under his head, stabilizing it.  
  
“Whoa, dude, you’re like, pale as milk! What’s wrong? Did you get hurt?? Can’t you heal it?”  
  
He somehow manages to push coherent words through his warbling cries. “I, I- I dunno, I’m c- _cracked,_ I’m—“  
  
“Wait, wait, wait, you’re WHAT?”  
  
Giving no thought to courtesy in light of the situation, she yanks his shirt up to see for herself.  
  
He hears her inhale as her fingers delicately brush against the gouge marring the center facet of his gem. It’s sharp, sympathetic. The kind of reaction only a Gem who’s lived this horror could offer him. Ever so slight, her hand recoils upon the no-doubt triggering sight. He— stars, he doesn’t wanna... doesn’t want to have to make her remember that, remember that awful time she herself got cracked, but here he is, so clumsy, s-so _useless,_ an—  
  
His chest trembles with every pitiful, bubbling gasp as he succumbs to the terror of the situation and begins to openly sob. Hot, fat tears pour in rivulets down his cheeks, but he knows instinctively there‘s no magic within them. Not today. Not when h-he’s... when he’s like _this._ _  
_  
What’s even gonna happen to him now? How’s he gonna— _Deep breath._ This time, he feels it coming. Every muscle in his body contracts on automatic as that awful, awful static tears through his nerves like an arc of electric current.  
  
 _It hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurts—_ _  
_  
Amethyst does her best to lighten her hold as he seizes, only cradling his head to ensure no more damage is done. When he stills this time the fight’s practically draining from his body. The boughs of the trees above him pirouette like dancers. Oh _stars,_ everything’s... so... woozy...  
  
“Aw, geeze,” she mutters, and reaches to her gem to pull out an object, thin and rectangular, too blurry in his view for him to make out with much detail. “I, uh... listen. I’m gonna call up Pearl, and we’re gonna fix you up, okay?? We’re gonna take you to the fountain, an’ then...” Her words (reassurance, but for who?) grow thick as her glance flicks downward at his stomach again. “An’ then you’re gonna be fine...”  
  
“B-b-but... I don’t think— I can’t walk,” he blubbers.  
  
“Then I’ll carry you.”  
  
“Am- _hnng-_ Amethyst—“  
  
“Shh-shh, don’t talk, bud. Save your energy.”  
  
“I- I’m so _scared,”_ he blurts.  
  
And it’s so true. Because everything is becoming so blurry and indistinguishable, and the more his body seizes the more fractured he feels, and he’s so close to closing his eyes and drifting off now, he’s _sure_ he is, he’s gotta be—  
  
“Steven,” she says, voice firm yet soft. “Steven, common’, look at me.”  
  
 _Serious Amethyst._ He recognizes the tone. No arguing now.  
  
So slowly but surely— knowing there’s no sense in fighting back oceans when he can barely stay afloat amidst the shallows of this river— his weary, tear stained eyes meet with hers. They’re blown wide with fear, with genuine concern, but between the swirls of black and indigo blue stirs a deeper courage: the unwavering gaze of someone who will have his back to the end of the line.  
  
Amethyst clasps her palm against his shoulder, solid and reassuring.  
  
“Whatever it takes, I promise you... I’m gonna get you there.”


	2. The Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help arrives. Amethyst tries to cope amidst the chaos.

A frantic phone call and a few minutes later, one of the decommissioned Roaming Eyes that’s been stationed on Earth carefully lowers through the gaps in the forest canopy. Amethyst lets out a sigh as it lands in the clearing with a solid _thunk,_ her fiercely protective grip on Steven’s hand relaxing a little. Stars, she’s never been so relieved to see one of these clunkers in her whole life.

Those passing minutes are what really worry her, though. Transport will be quick now, but there’s still too many awful what-ifs hanging over her like an anvil to her gem. Like, what if they’ve already wasted too much of Steven’s precious time? What if he’s gonna be permanently damaged ‘cause of all this, since he’s a hybrid, so extraordinarily different from the rest of them? Or, what if there’s not enough water left in the fountain to heal him in the first place? Last she saw, its finite supply was pretty lacking. It’s why they’ve transitioned to healing the corrupted Gems at the Temple as of late, utilizing the Diamonds’ bottled essence and Steven’s own tears rather than the scrap leftovers of the fountain water they anointed in person last year.

But Steven never bottled any of _his._ And now, with the source of his healing magic totally busted, there’s nothing they can do but visit the fountain and hope beyond all hopes there’s some of Rose’s tears still there.

Oh, if only they were closer to a warp. If they were, then Amethyst could’ve hefted him into her arms like she always used to when he was smaller, carried him there, then bam- they could be on location in an instant. No transport ship needed. Unfortunately though, the two of them hiked a good half hour before big ol’ nasty caught wind of their trail. Like it or not, the warp pad is simply too far away. And she’s not about to risk worsening his crack by jostling him as she runs on such a long trip. 

So yeah, this particular Roaming Eye may be old, janky tech, but it’ll have to do.

The teen stiffens in her hold again, eyes growing bleary. “A… A-Amethyst?? I think I’m—“

The violent muscle contractions cut off his words as quickly as the slash of a whip. Knowing the drill by now she lightens her hold, allowing him just enough space to seize without hurting himself. She grimaces. It doesn’t even sound like he can catch a full breath as his body jerks and spasms against his control. The helpless, labored wheezing pouring out from him is almost physically painful to listen to, her own form glitching in sympathy for a split instant.

“Shhh,” she whispers, delicately dancing around the innate fear of the situation. “Don’t talk. Save your energy, remember? I-I... we’ve got ya’. Y’see there? They just landed!"

Blessedly, this seizure reaches its end by the time the engines of the craft fully shut off. His whimpers slowly lessen, his eyelids fluttering shut in all his exhaustion.

Her fingers comb through his thick dark curls. “We’ll fix ya’ right up, buddy…”

She’s mopping the sweat off his forehead as the door slides ajar, and Pearl dashes out of the ship with Greg practically sticking to her heels. Amethyst braces herself for the inevitable chastising.

 _“What on Earth were you thinking,”_ the Pearl in her subconscious squawks, _“letting him get hurt like this?!”_

But the reprimanding she instinctively expects never comes.

Instead, the ivory Gem sprints to her side alongside the boy’s father, and— dropping to her knees— envelops her in what’s perhaps the tightest hug she’s ever received from her. 

“Amethyst!” she cries, lithe fingers gripping at her long lavender hair. “Oh, thank goodness you’re okay! What happened?”

Clasped tight in her embrace, she allows herself a moment to catch her breath as the world ticks onwards around her. It’s but a small kindness. Admittedly, she’s still too shell-shocked about all of this to give a swift response, too distracted by the overwhelming reality of Greg’s anguished expression as he takes in the sight of his son lying prone before him, his paleness stark against the soft blue of his t-shirt.

_“Steven!”_

It’s hard to watch. Humans get so weirdly sensitive on the topic of injury— but then, she figures that’s because humans are so squishy and fragile, and always fixated on how short their lifespans are and how easily they can be cut short. Even if Steven’s special, even if in the end his crack will be fixed and he’ll likely be fine, (of course he’ll be fine, he _has_ to be fine!), she supposes it’s only natural for Greg to worry. When the man collapses to his knees in front of him, he grabs Steven’s hand and babbles reassurances into his ear, words spoken too light for either Gem to pick up. Steven’s eyelids subtly twitch upon this appeal to his humanity.

Her glance flicks towards the Roaming Eye as Pearl waits for her to say something, anything. 

“I…” she begins with marked hesitation. “I’ll explain everything once we’re on the ship. Gotta help Steven first, yeah?”

She nods, pulling away to stand. “Y-yes, of course. You’re right.”

Kneeling beside her, Greg’s voice quivers, ever so slightly. “You’re gonna be fine, buddy,” he whispers to the boy, his hand squeeze only barely reciprocated. “You’re gonna be just fine.”

Pearl interrupts his frantic reassurances with a nudge to his shoulder.

“We need to carry him,” she says, voice strained. It’s clear she’s only barely choking back her panic. “One mustn’t waste any time when it comes to cracked gems, after all!” Without skipping a beat, she leads the human’s quivering hands to the teen’s ankles. “Here, you can lift him by the legs like so, Amethyst, his torso, and then _I’ll_ be at front supporting his neck and shoulders—“

Steven gives a soft whine, breath fast and shallow.

Amethyst swallows, drinking in the nuances of the scene. Steven’s jaw is clenched. Clearly, he’s holding back on expressing how much pain he’s in, bottling it up for their sake. Meanwhile, Greg— anxious single father that he is— is about one second away from breaking down entirely. She‘s almost scared what his reaction will be if Steven experiences another one of his seizing fits in his presence. And Pearl? Much as she loves her, uptight and fraying at the ends is most definitely not the sort of leader they need right now. Truth be told she’s not confident she is either, but hey, hard times call for unexpected solutions.

Gently, she stands to her feet and guides her away from Steven’s body. “Hey, Greg-o and I got this, P. No worries. Just have the ship ready for us.”

“I— are you sure?”

“Yeah, we can carry him no problem, right Greg?”

She turns to match eyes with him, every fragment of her being silently pleading for his agreement.

“Uh, I— sure,” he says, although he doesn’t sound so confident. “I think so. Let me just...” He huffs as he pushes himself off his knees, and shifts closer to his son’s head. “I’ll hold him up front, okay? I’m taller, an’ I’ve carried him before, an’—“

Amethyst’s tone softens. “Hey.” Straining to hold herself together for his sake, amidst all her doubts and fears, she moves to pat his forearm. Attempts to ground him. “Hey, you’re good. We can do this.”

She closes her eyes and inhales deeply to calm down her own unsteady form. _No panic. Don’t let them see your panic. You’ve gotta be the mature one here. It’s gonna work out, Steven will be fine. You’ll all be fine._

_Breathe. Just breathe._

“Pearl, start the ship for us,” she says once she’s balanced herself. Not a question, not a request, no hesitation in her tone. Not a confused, defective Quartz soldier waiting for orders, nor a naïve Gem clinging on the heels of the first living souls she ever saw, nor a loyal teammate constantly deferring to another’s judgement out of insecurity, out of the flawed belief that no one would ever take an overcooked runt like her seriously. No, no. Not today. Instead, as she rises above the shadowed, fettered memories of her past, Amethyst takes hold of the reigns of leadership as easily as grasping her whip. 

Pearl offers a weak smile as she nods in confirmation, and starts to scuttle back towards the Roaming Eye’s door. “Yes, of course!”

 _Good,_ she thinks. One issue taken care of. Now, as for Steven and Greg...

The two shift in tandem around the cracked boy as they prepare to lift him. In his current state, it’s imperative that they’re careful. She clasps her hands around his ankles, feeling a twisting close to her gem as she watches him instinctively flinch at her touch.

“Shh-shh, it’s okay,” Greg whispers. “We gotcha.”

“Dad,” he croaks, the first words he’s had the strength to speak in a good while. “Duhh- D-Dad, I... Ahm- I’m suh... sss-so sorry—“

Her hard-light form nearly spikes cold with fear as he continues to mindlessly babble. Shards, now his words are becoming slurred! He’s deteriorating. They gotta make this quick.

“Steven, we’re gonna pick you up on three, capiche?” She locks eyes with his father, her friend, seeking confirmation. “Ready?”

“One,” Greg mutters, solidifying his hold under his armpits. 

“Two...”

“Three!” they say at once, hefting the teen’s full weight up off the forest floor with a grunt. 

He produces a sharp gasp in response. The sound makes her cringe. She knows they can’t avoid jostling him altogether if they want to transport him to the fountain, but... geeze, she really hopes they’re not hurting him any more than he already is. And she hopes he doesn’t seize up on them again while he’s off the ground. That could turn out disastrously.

Working together, they carry him across the grassy clearing and up the shallow incline of the ship’s ramp. Slow and steady, as careful as they can be... Greg’s breathing hard by the time they reach the entrance, but his grip holds strong. Meanwhile, Pearl sits at the cockpit, punching in coordinates for Rose’s fountain. Besides her, the ship is empty.

“No Garnet?” Amethyst asks as she leads them inside, finally seeing fit to bring up the obvious question.

She shakes her head in fervent stress. “She’s still away on her mission on the Niessea Belt worlds. I tried contacting her, but—“

Steven gives a painful, keening cry, his entire body shooting rigid in their hold. Her eyes snap open wide.

_Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, not now, not now—_

“Greg- Greg, _hold him!”_ she shouts, slipping into hysterics as he begins to seize again, limbs jerking and breath coming in quick shallow gasps. She can feel the muscles of his legs spasm in staccato bursts under her hands. “Hold him, don’t drop him, you—“

Pearl jumps up from her seat upon hearing all the commotion. “What’s wrong with him??”

“I’m _trying,_ I’m—!”

“Set him down, _set him down!_ Quickly! We gotta get him back on the floor where it’s safe, I can’t let him get hurt again, I can’t—“

“Sh-shta...” Steven slurs, face contorting as he rides this episode out. “Puh... _please,_ I—“

“I’m starting the ship!” the ivory Gem says, punching the last few buttons needed to close the door and launch them on their way. 

The Roaming Eye shakes ever so gently as it lifts up out of the dense forest. Amethyst stumbles, legs slightly wobbling as she coordinates with Greg to deposit Steven safely on the cool metallic floor, his head resting in his father’s lap. His spasms are more intermittent now. Hopefully this means this latest round of seizing has reached its end.

 _For now,_ she can’t help but fret, swallowing with a heavy gulp as she watches Greg comb back his sweat slicked curls. Until they can fix that crack in his gem, he’s gonna get worse and worse. She knows this from experience. Simply put, being cracked long-term is a nightmare. You can’t think straight, you can’t speak straight, you lose all control of your physical form... She’d willingly poof a thousand times if it meant she could avoid janking up her gem like that again. 

Which is why it absolutely shatters her to have to watch Steven suffer through this too.

She watches silently as the boy lets his eyes slide shut for now, held safe in his father’s embrace. His rest isn’t exactly _restful—_ as evident from how his brow and nose keep scrunching inwards as he seethes from the sensation of it all— but anything is better than nothing in this state.

“So you- you said he’s cracked?” Greg asks, looking up at her with dampened eyes. His hands are shaking now. The man is clearly a hair’s breadth away from breaking down in tears. It’s genuinely a credit to his strength as a father that he’s holding it together at all. 

Gently, Amethyst lifts the hem of his shirt to reveal his gemstone. The deep gouge marring the diamond at his navel says everything her words cannot. The others’ reactions are immediate, their eyes blowing wide with fear. Even Pearl, even someone who knows the power of Rose’s healing magic firsthand. Horror clutching with a vice-like grip upon her gem, she notes that the crack has expanded since she last looked.

“We were just tracking down that corrupted Gem that tripped our detectors this morning,” she explains. “But it ambushed us! I... geeze, I thought we could like, poof it no problem, but...”

“It got the jump on him instead,” Pearl says in a blunt, grim manner. She balls up her hand at her chin, expression haunted by the very thought. “Stars, I can’t even _imagine_ how badly this hurts! It must have taken quite the hit to crack a diamond like this.” 

His father rubs at the boy’s shoulder, wincing at the sight of his baseline quivering, his jaw clenched like a knife to the grindstone and his eyes twisted shut. “Is there anything we can do right now to lessen the pain for him?”

Hmm. She curls her lip, musing on this. Good ol’ Pierogi probably has human pain killers stashed away somewhere in that pearl of hers. But there’s no guarantee that such a remedy would do a single thing to help, given the nature of his injury. It’s the Gem half of him that’s hurt, not the squishy organic half. So whatever they do it’s gotta be a Gem remedy, and the only Gem remedy she can think of for an injured Gem is...

“Well,” Pearl begins cautiously, her gaze drifting between the three of them, “when Gems became cracked during the rebellion, we used to poof them until Rose could return to use her healing magic, so they wouldn’t have to deal with the trauma of glitching out so badly. But of course, Steven’s different! He’s half human. We can’t expect it’ll work in the same way!”

_Although..._

_“Can_ we poof him?” she shrugs, playing devil’s advocate for a moment.

The whites of Greg’s eyes expand as he gawks at her. “W-what are you suggesting, exactly?”

“I mean, he can fuse, right?”

“Well, yes—“

“An’ same as poofing,” she cuts back in, holding up a finger for emphasis, “fusion is a sorta... shifting of our hard light forms. His organic half goes _somewhere_ during all that, yeah? If he poofed, maybe it’d be the same.”

The man’s sunburnt face drains just about as pale as Pearl’s as he clutches onto his son all the tighter. “Uh, I don’t think now’s the right time to test a hypothesis like that. Or ever.”

“Greg’s right,” Pearl says. “There’s simply too much we can’t say with certainty about his hybrid nature.” Tears building in her eyes, she brushes her slender fingers against his cheek. “But he’s a fighter, our Steven. He’ll carry through.”

Below her, Steven lets out a soft whimper. Realization hits her with the force of a quartz’s strike that she genuinely has no way of knowing for sure how much or how little he’s aware of his surroundings right now. Her face flushes dark with shame. Held taut at her sides, she clenches her fists tight, mentally pulling away from the conversation in which clearly her stupid half-baked ideas are unwelcome and instead fixating on the quickened thrum of the hard light running in channels through every square inch of her form. A pang of anger swells up within her, all putrid and stale. What on Earth was she thinking?? He’s in agony, he’s _broken,_ and yet she has the gall to suggest such a moronic, risky idea anyways? When his very survival hangs in the balance? Geeze. What the hell.

She’s disgusting.

She hastily stalks away from the trio to catch some fresh air, slouching against one of the windows and pressing her cheek to the glass. A small sliver of her can’t help but admire the view through the Roaming Eye’s wide windows. The ship running on autopilot, they’ve long since lifted through the clouds and into the stratosphere. It’s all white and grey swirls as far as the eye can see. The reds and pinks of sunset edging at the visible horizon greet them with warmth.

With everything else plaguing her it’s a hollow appreciation, though. No matter what thoughts she tries to distract herself with, the memory of that ill-fated fight sinks its claws into her mind more and more by the minute. Every tangible stimulus— the sights, the smells, the sounds, the pains— it all plays on repeat. It’s insufferable, obsessive. Like some self-despairing sapphire she traces each and every decision that led her here, bolds and underlines every mistake. 

And no matter how many times she tries with desperation to make up for it, tries to save him, no matter how many loops through recent past she takes, it all brings her to one single, overwhelming conclusion:

All of this... all of this needless suffering...

It should’ve been her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the very warm response on the first chapter, each and every comment was greatly appreciated. <3


	3. The Fountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amethyst, Greg, and Pearl struggle to keep it together.

Discounting extreme circumstances, (such as diamond mind control or flaws in incubation), Gems are designed to have perfect memory.

It’s one of the many aspects of their culture that surprises humans, and all too often one that makes them jealous. But Amethyst doesn’t understand why there’s anything to be jealous about. Sure, maybe it means she can learn a skill once and be done with it, or hold on to cherished moments in crystal clear recollection, but it also means that in some part she’ll always be haunted by everything _boring,_ everything _bad_. It’s an unavoidable facet of her life: that every passing second of all those years she spent alone in the Kindergarten waiting for orders she’d never receive is forever etched into the baseline circuitry of her gem like ink on a human’s skin, that she can remember every rotten fight she and Pearl ever had with picture perfect clarity, each instance ending with her feeling like absolute garbage for days and days. That... no matter how hard she tries to escape the untimely reminders... deep down, all those selfish, immature versions of herself she wishes she could dump in the past forever are still a part of her coding.

In comparison, humanity has it lucky. In time, they forget. They move on. Even the most traumatizing memories seem to eventually fade by the end of a life, leaving behind only feelings... only scars... just whispering impressions of those experiences.

She desperately hopes Steven takes after his dad and not Rose in this aspect.

The four of them exit the ship in a hurry, Amethyst still helping Greg carry his son, and Pearl advancing ahead to check on the state of the water supply.

As always, Rose’s fountain is a time capsule. The shrubs and trees surrounding the inner pool are tame now, a stark difference from the first time she had the untimely pleasure of visiting, but the cold, staticky sensation rising within her as she steps off the boarding ramp of the Roaming Eye with Steven’s legs secure in her grasp is the same. Amethyst only barely holds back a shudder. She recalls the disorientation she felt in this place so vividly she may as well be cracked all over again.

 _The world glitches violently within her sight, ashen sky and charcoal stone phasing into each other. Left is right and up is down, hard light stretching out from her broken gemstone like clawing, yearning fingers... forming and reforming, taut at one moment and pliable at the next, and her words are jumbled and backwards, and deep within she_ _knows_ _this with an intense clarity but she can’t help it, she can barely even_ ** _think_ ,** _she ca—_

_“Amethyst, no more roughhousing, you'll exacerbate your crack!”_

_“Doog m’I, gnihtyna ro yrrow t’nod.”_

_“This isn't right... the fountain isn’t running.”_

_“WHY CAN’T I CRY?!”_

The thin little circuits of light running throughout her projected body jolt in remembrance of that afternoon, indelible phantom pangs of a sliver of time she can never forget for anything. With a dull huff and a grimace, she adjusts her hold on the boy she’s long come to see as her baby brother. Best to not become lost in the flood of the past when she’s got a mission to uphold. _That’s... that’s all this is, ch’yeah? A mission. Just a mission. Retrace your steps, meet your goal, get it done. Easy-peasy. No problem._

Ignore the stakes. Ignore everything that isn’t right here and right now. Ignore the sharp cries of pain that escape his lips intermittently, that stab at you so deep you feel like you should be poofing.

“Amethyst?” a voice comes to her softly. “You okay?”

But don’t ignore Greg. Whatever you do, don’t ignore the people around you, don’t lose yourself to that awful disorientation again, don’t make everything worse, don’t push, don’t roughhouse, don’t—

“She’s been cracked like this before,” Pearl explains as she walks in a frantic pace ahead of them. “And we Gems, well... we remember things vividly, shall we say.”

She scoffs, still inwardly cradling her gem in response to what happened in the Roaming Eye. Sheesh. It’s so typical of Pearl to launch headfirst into other people’s business before she can open her own dumb mouth to explain on her own, huh?

“Wow,” she bites back on jerk instinct, “thanks for the announcement. ‘S not like I could’ve said it better myself, or anything.”

The slender Gem snaps upon her bait with a piercing, annoyance-filled gaze, and frankly, Amethyst would’ve doled out another snide comment in return had Steven’s hoarse voice not chosen that moment to hitch in panic, derailing all other thoughts in an instant. Her arms grow just as stiff and locked as the muscles in his calves, be it from sympathy or as a mirror into the bitter past, to a time where she suffered just as much as he is now.

The weight of this realization settles like lead at her core. Her favorite guy in the whole galaxy is in earth-shattering pain, and she’s wasting precious seconds of his life taking cheep shots at _Pearl?_

 _Not the time,_ she growls at herself, shedding her petty feud to the wind. _Focus!_

“Uh, y’guys? I-I think it’s happening again!” his father says, exhausted arms quivering under the strain of carrying the boy for so long.

“Damnit,” she hisses, and follows Greg’s lead on easing his body closer to the ground before the worst of his fits arrive. This time, Steven lacks the energy to mask his broken sobs, split between desperate gasps for breath. Nothing, not gentle whispers or even his father’s calloused hand delicately brushing through his curls, seems to soothe his anguish now. She doesn’t consider herself much of a crier, but she’s close to tears herself just watching him. As she glances up to check how far they are from their destination, she catches a flash of ivory and blue disappearing between the shrubbery. “Pearl!” she bellows, her shout echoing across the entire garden. “Slow down, would ‘ya? He’s seizing again!”

Her features contort as she whirls around to glance back, unmaskable stress now nearly tearing her apart at the seems. She jabs her finger at the narrow path between the shrubs. “But we’re almost—“

“Fine, fine, never mind! You’re right!” Amethyst blurts, waving her off. “You go run ahead. Just...”

Her voice grows thick as she roughly wipes away the moisture accumulating at the corner of her eyes. She forces herself to drink in the stark reality of their immediate situation, taking note of the injured teen’s hiccuping cries as he recovers from his latest seizing episode, as he continues to ride through the unimaginable torment of a cracked gem left too long without healing... his dad, kneeling amongst dirt and stone, no doubt pressing harsh indents into his knees as he freely offers his lap as a headrest, panting with exhaustion, absolutely wrecked with anxiety and terror despite doing everything within his power to mask it for his son’s sake... and her. _Her._ Amethyst, Facet-5 Cut-8XM, a Gem who’s become downright traumatized by this place, by this precise scenario, barely able to retain a handle on her own emotions and eidetic recollections to where she actually feels she can be of reliable help.

“I don’t think we can’t follow you anymore, ‘kay?” she says, hoarse. “Greg’s tired, Steven’s flat-up in tears, and... an’ this place is startin’ to really mess me up, y’know? S-so...”

She tugs at thick clumps of her hair as the thought trails off, fingers fruitlessly searching for a clue that might direct her out of these darkened, murky waters and back to shore.

But as always, if you put in the work to look for them, there’s leading lights scattered amongst the mist in places you’d never expect.

“Bring the fountain to you,” Pearl completes, gaze softening within that moment. She nods in wholehearted acceptance of her duty. “I’m on it.”

 _Thank you,_ she mouths in earnest, the dull buzzing running throughout her form dropping to a blessed minimum as she— lips parted— watches her longtime friend disappear between the shrubs and vines, every arc of her movement accentuated by unerring grace. Amethyst flushes, and mentally pushes such sentimental distraction away.

_Right. Okay. One problem solved. Back to Steven._

The hybrid in question is cradled in Greg’s care, his head laying in the man’s lap and his limbs twitching without repose. She hasn’t checked the state of his gemstone recently, but given the minutes ticking away since his injury, and his steadily deteriorating state, she’s almost too scared to look. Greg continues to whisper thin reassurances to him, wiping the sweat off his dampened forehead.

“He’s getting _really_ warm,” he comments, stress coating his tone, and damn does she wish she could do something, anything, to help, but there’s simply nothing they can do without that healing water.

As the trio waits for word from Pearl, inevitable waves of dread collapsing upon them heavier and heavier with each uneven heartbeat that passes, Steven’s wobbly gaze falls upon her.

“Ah... Amethyst,” he gasps, barely able to attain a full breath.

She snaps to attention, clasping his hand tight in hers. “Yeah? I’m here, buddy, I’m here! Whatever you need.”

“I’m- I’m s-suh—“

 _Sorry,_ she realizes he’s trying to say, remembering how he struggled earlier trying not to stumble over the ‘s.’ She swallows hard.

“You don’t gotta be sorry for anything, ‘kay?” she says, rhythmically rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb. “It’s my fault _,_ this is just- _I_ should’ve been looking out for you, I should’ve protected you and I failed. All this is on _me.”_

“B-but I—“

To her utter horror, his next words are so slurred in his disorientation they’re all but unintelligible. All attempts on his part to communicate are then broken as he gnashes his teeth together and writhes in his father’s arms. Greg’s brokenly calling his name as he loosens his hold, vying with every slice of will he has left to help him not hurt himself further, help him find any shred of relief, but it’s of little use. The boy is all but unresponsive right now. She tries her best not to internalize the sound of his broken wails, least they be carved upon on her gem forever. Her form flickers in the height of her distress, hard light veins pulsing with unparalleled intensity.

The memories are impossible to dodge now. Those fragments strike like barbed arrows.

 _The cliffside. The fall. The rock. The audible crack as her fate is sealed. The immediate static rising in her mind as she stands up, only halfway alert, feigning casual indifference as her body quite literally begins to fall apart. I’m fine. I’m_ **_fine._ ** _The worry, the brambles, the panic, the fountain, the strained tears,_ ~~ _c-can’t think can’t feel, can’t_ ~~ _—_

“It’s empty!” Pearl cries from the distance, voice shrill and laced with panic.

Her eyes split wide as she snaps her head towards the ivory Gem’s call, dread clasping ahold of her like a physical hand to her gem. “What??”

She emerges from between the shrubbery to enter the clearing again, emphasizing her doom-spelling news with a sharp flourish:

“I said, the main fountain is empty!”

 _“Empty?"_ Greg repeats, all the blood draining from his face. He squeezes his injured son’s hand with the grip of a man lost at sea, clutching to a life preserver.

But while he freezes upon processing this information, Pearl can’t seem to stop pacing. Her lithe fingers twitch rapid fire as she passes back and forth in front of them, brimming with an infinite supply of nervous energy that’s befitting of their perilous situation.

“Stars, the water we left behind after healing all those corrupted Gems must have completely evaporated...” she mutters to herself, clutching at the lapels of her jacket as if this garment is the last tangible thing holding her form together. “I _knew_ we shouldn’t have left it open to the elements!”

“But then- what the hell are we supposed to do now?!” he says, voice breaking in all his fearful anguish. His gaze snaps from her to Steven laying prone in his lap. “My only son is in agonizing pain! He’s- he’s got a fever! He can barely speak! We can’t just _give up!_ There has to be something!”

“I- I’ll check in the inner chambers!” Pearl says with dawning realization, one last ray of hope penetrating the glossy surface of her gemstone as she jabs her index finger into the air. “Surely there has to be some remnant of Rose’s healing magic left, right?”

Steven shudders in his dad’s arms, sloppy tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

“Tluaf ym lla si siht...” he blubbers, and for whatever reason something about his unintelligible speech seems... different from before. Her brow creases as she searches the infinite wilds of her stored memory for answers, for patterns, anything that might provide the slightest hint of clarity in this fraught situation, and sure enough...

Dawning truth stings like a fist to the jaw as she recalls her own experience and realizes his slurred words are far more than unintelligible; this injury has scrambled his mental processes to such a degree that his speech has slipped backwards. And that can only mean... Lip quivering, Amethyst pushes through the dread tugging at her soul and yanks up the hem of the teen’s shirt. The deep gouge running diagonal across his gemstone has lengthened— edging ever closer to the edges of the pentagon— and threatens to partition it in half. Pearl’s soft “oh no” and Greg’s strained sob tell her everything she needs to know. The consensus is clear: time is not their ally anymore.

“Pearl, HURRY!” she yells, pointing towards the fountain’s heart.

Her fellow Crystal Gem doesn’t even pause to comment on the matter, and instead, water brimming at the corner of her eyes as she spends her last second in their company lovingly gazing upon the boy as only a surrogate mother could, hurriedly disappears between the shrubs to seek out Steven’s last chance of salvation. Left alone in the throes of their mutual panic, Amethyst and Greg place comforting hands upon his head as— huddled together on the cold stone of the fountain’s doorstep— they’re assailed by the terrifying possibility that his life may very well slip between their fingers before Pearl can ever hope to return. Gone, in an instant.

Shattered.

Her shapeshifted stomach churns at the mere thought, like she’s finally eaten something her hard light system refuses to break down. She clutches tight at her own gem, gasping as she rides the sharp wave of distress. In all these years, though every fight and struggle... she’s never seen someone shatter before. Fresh, hopeless tears cut a raw path across her cheeks as her hand trails across his overheated forehead.

Stars, not today. Not him, _please_ not him.

The teen barely restrains a hiccuping sob as he cries out again. “Thgir gnihtyna... od t’nac I, syug yrros m’I!”

Greg’s breath hitches, gaze briefly trailing from his son’s strained face to his still-exposed gem. Whirling to face her, he roughly grabs ahold of her shoulders, his expression downright pleading now. “Pearl... Amethyst, if she doesn’t find anything, if the fountain’s empty, _please_ tell me there’s somewhere else we can go, something else we can do...!”

She frantically shakes her head. “I- I don’t know, we—“

Desperately, she wishes she could give him reassurance. Desperately, she wishes Rose had thought ahead, secured a sum of her essence in another location for redundancy’s sake, but the truth is a bitter pill: they’re all but useless in this place, stripped of their agency and forced to rely on the mercy of the dead. If they can’t find any remnants of Rose’s healing tears here, then Steven’s gem will splinter into shards and he will _die_. She clenches her teeth together, once again feeling those phantom pains rip through her form, faint impressions of a near-tragedy long abandoned to the past, it’s over, _it’s over, get a hold of yourself,_ ~~ _keep it together, keep it together, keep it to_~~ _—_

“Yaw siht leef annaw t’nod I- I, deracs _os,_ os m’I, Dad, deracs os m’I... I!”

The boy’s father clutches his hand in his, arm trembling just like Steven’s frail body as— after his long, valiant attempt to mask it for everyone else’s sake— he finally crumbles, failing to swallow his fear.

“Oh- oh _god,_ ” he chokes over his words, eyes puffy and red, “I’m... I’m gonna lose him, aren't I? He’s gonna—“

_“Eid annaw t’nod I—!”_

And then, at the apex of the storm, Amethyst finds what she’s always been searching for: their leading light, burning faithfully through the dark.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!!” Pearl cries from the near distance, voice growing louder with each and every syllable. “I’m coming!”

She emerges from between the shrubbery like the first ray of light breaking an eclipse's totality, clutching a thin vial in her grasp. At first glimpse the vial almost looks empty, but after the ivory Gem drops to her knees beside them in the clearing and pops the cork stopper out, sure enough— it holds a few pink-tinged drops of fluid, Rose’s coveted magic. And all they need is one.

They all watch expectantly, blood and hard light alike pulsing through their forms at a unified pace as Pearl tips the vial, allowing the tears to careen downward towards its mouth.

When the single droplet finally slips from the edge of the glass, it hangs in the air right above his cracked gem for what feels like hours, scattering the ambient sunlight across their tear-stained, expectant faces like the dizzying patterns of a kaleidoscope. In an intentional echo of all the once-alien experiences she’s long come to cherish and genuinely respect, Amethyst— despite having no lungs of her own— takes a deep, anticipating breath, her mind running through every what-if as she waits. The futures where he dies. The futures where he lives. The futures where... where she still has a chance to tell him how much he means to her. Where she’s not too late. Not a failure. Futures where they can laugh again, where they can finally begin to move on.

Time creeps forward. The healing tear plummets downward, directly towards his center facet. She exhales.

_Contact._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For bonus sad, read Steven's backwards dialogue. ;)
> 
> EDIT (9/25/2020):
> 
> Thank you _very_ much to @cynthi-universe on tumblr for your beautiful fanart! [Original post here.](https://cynthi-universe.tumblr.com/post/630200663393107968/a-quick-little-fanart-from-that-most-recent) Give this art some love! :D 


	4. The Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

His mind is shrouded by darkness for long enough that in the split instant the curtains finally part, for just a momentary shard of infinity, the mere idea of any world beyond the pitch-black he’s become so accustomed to seems like a farce. 

Resultantly, his journey to consciousness is about as labored and exhausting as a backpacking trip across the Great North in the dead of winter.

He’s greeted by flashes of white, first— intermittent, dim. They splash across his inky sky in unreliable patterns, little bursts of static gearing up to pull him out of this all-consuming nothingness and back to reality. Next, a heartbeat. Steady and sure, such a relief to experience that his throat can’t help but constrict in a wave of all-encompassing emotion. (Why is he so relieved to feel something this normal?) Lying somewhere intangibly beyond his awareness, he can hear... water? _Waves,_ he immediately corrects himself. The aching familiarity of waves crashing upon the shore, a sound he’s shared his front yard with for almost his whole life. Elsewhere, the faint scent of herbs and simmering broth delicately pulls on his consciousness, burning through tangled threads of disorientation and confusion and beckoning him awake. 

Steven’s eyelids flutter open, thin lines of light streaming through the gaps between his eyelashes. 

The moment he does however, the stark actuality of his situation slams into him with a vengeance. His head throbs as memories begin to re-establish themselves like individual puzzle pieces locking into place. 

_I was— Dad, and Amethyst... the fountain... empty, and then Pearl had to...._

His heart’s pace snaps into overdrive in seconds. Thrashing under his blankets, he manages to kick his arms and torso free so he can rush to sit up. Dizziness assails him as he yanks up the bottom of his pajamas and splays his hand across the smooth, warm surface of that diamond at his core, feeling for cracks, for chips, for—

_Huh. Imagine that._

Steven inhales deep as he attempts to balance out the pace of his breath, blood still pounding in his ears as he delicately traces a shaking index finger around the edge of the central pentagonal facet of his gem, entirely unblemished and whole. There’s no sign of damage, no thin stress fractures left behind. No evidence that it was ever cracked at all, really. For an excruciatingly lengthy moment his brow creases inwards in confusion as he wonders if all this agony was nothing but a stress-induced nightmare. But then again... 

He groans, pressing his fingers to one of his throbbing temples as the ambient pain hits him.

Oh stars, everything aches. His head, his limbs, his spine, every square inch of his body feels like he’s been pressed through a meat grinder and ruthlessly spat out on the other side. If that’s not proof that what happened on his mission with Amethyst was real, then he doesn’t know _what_ is. Drowsily, he flops back against his pillow and squeezes his eyelids shut, stubbornly yearning for the comfort and familiarity of sleep-induced unconsciousness. Maybe, just maybe... he can sleep these aches away. 

Time passes far too unreliably as he’s laying motionless there, struggling against a hyperactive flood of thoughts to return to his earlier state of rest. Has he been awake for a minute? Half an hour? He has no idea. The only concrete thing he can glean is that he definitely has a headache right now. Maybe even a migraine. He’s still not sure what the difference between those is supposed to be. Is it a ‘squares are rectangles, but rectangles aren’t squares’ sort of scenario? Or are they synonyms? Hmm. Maybe he should ask Dad, he’d probably know. In fact, where is Dad? And how’d he end up in bed in his pajamas, anyways?

He’s honestly relieved when he hears the unmistakable sound of Pearl’s light, precise footsteps climbing the stairs to his room, if only that it gives him a solid excuse to face reality and stop deluding himself with the tragic, unobtainable lie that is peaceful slumber. He lets his eyes flutter open again.

“Hi, Pearl,” he mumbles when she reaches the top step. 

She’s carrying a small dinner tray with a steaming bowl of something delicious smelling (the broth he recognized earlier?) and a glass of water perched atop. Meeting his half-alert gaze, her expression lights up with a glow of pleasant surprise.

“Oh, good, you’re up!” she says, a great deal of the stress locked in her shoulders melting away as she crosses the room towards his bedside. “I was just about to wake you myself, if you weren’t already.”

Rubbing away the exhaustion crusted at the corners of his eyes with the joint at the base of his thumb, he watches as Pearl carefully places the tray on the nightstand at his right. With a groan, he bows upwards under his covers, the vertebrae in his back popping and sighing all the while as he stretches. Goodness, he’s not sure his spine has ever felt so stiff and tight. Remind him to never accidentally get hurled against a tree in combat again.

“How... how long was I out?” he asks then, the workaholic part of him already fearing her answer.

Pearl glances towards the ceiling, her brow creasing as she makes the calculation in her head.

“Hmm, I think... around seven hours?“

“What??” he cries, shooting upright in bed with the speed of a spring trap. _“Seven hours?!_ That’s like, the whole day! I had plans!”

She frowns pensively, gesturing widely with her hands as she replies. “Steven, you were cracked and needed time to recover. A hit like that is bound to take a serious toll on any body, hard-light or not.”

His features morphing into a scowl, he slouches back against the wall. That’s a fair point, how disruptive cracks can be for full-Gems as well. It’s not just a matter of Pearl babying him. Even though they healed Amethyst’s fracture fairly quickly, years back, it still took her a few days of rest before she rose to the top of her game again. And as much as he’d love to deny it, right now his whole body honestly feels like it’s been hit head on by a truck at sixty miles per hour. It’s a dull but constant brand of pain he can’t claim he’s ever dealt with before all this mess. That month he shot up almost a foot in height back when he was 14 came close, but even that period of ache was more subtle than this. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says with a heavy sigh, threading his fingers together in his lap.

“Anyways,” she says gently, the reminder of her presence cutting through some of the layers of his pain-induced melancholy, “it’s 5:38 now, just in time for dinner! And I took the liberty of cooking a batch of your favorite soup.”

Unable to help himself, his inner child gasps in sheer joy. He sits up again, slamming his palms to his cheeks as he gushes with excitement. “Chicken and vegetable soup with the tiny star noodles??”

Any lingering crankiness about the percentage of the day wasted dissipates into a fine mist as Pearl picks the tray off the nightstand and passes it into his lap, confirming the identity of his homemade dinner. As he begins to eat— carefully, taking small spoonfuls at first to ensure that his stomach can handle it— his guardian sits at the edge of his bed and provides him updates on the rest of the family’s whereabouts. Apparently Garnet’s still halfway across the galaxy, but should be returning home tomorrow the moment she’s through with her mission. She sends her love, Pearl says. She also texted Connie to let her know what happened, and his friend plans to come over as soon as she can in the morning to spend time with him as he recovers. Meanwhile, Greg left a few minutes before he woke up to hit the store. He’s picking up some new food for the both of them, and intends to sleep downstairs on the couch the next few nights to keep tabs on him.

“He’s been really worried about you,” she admits, reaching out for his hand as if she too frets he might suddenly fade into the ether if she takes her eyes off him for one moment. “Before I told him to step out of the house for some mental rejuvenation, he never left your side.”

Steven responds to her tactile affection with a soft squeeze for her benefit, but quickly lets go to continue eating his soup.

“Well,” he says through a fresh spoonful of food, “‘m fine now, so...” Pause to swallow, the bump of his larynx bobbing in his throat. “So there’s no need to worry anymore.”

“Oh, if only it were that easy,” she comments, a melancholy smile framing her face. 

With a sigh, she stands to her feet, smoothing out the edge of the covers where she once sat. Watching this small act, he suddenly wonders if her vast history with deeply troubling experiences like what she had to witness this morning are why she’s so emotionally drawn to tasks such as tidying and repairing; after all, these do allow her space to exert a small degree of control over areas of her life she might otherwise harbor concern or anxiety towards. Huh. He presses his lips into a tight line as he willfully contemplates this concept. Considering his earlier disappointment about how much daylight he’s wasted, (so many business and socialization meetings he’s missing in town today!), perhaps he inherited a portion of his own workaholic tendencies from emulating _her_ throughout his childhood. He dares not follow this rabbit any further, however... dares not ask _what_ he’s distracting himself from.

_Another time, Universe._

Brimming with a renewed sense of purpose, Pearl crosses towards the narrow patio outside the open slider door, her features returning to their neutral, observant state.

“In any case,” she continues as she rests her palm flat against the glass, “please do enjoy the rest of your meal! I’m going to fetch Amethyst from the observatory. She’s been, um... how to say... on Diamond pacifying duty these past few hours, and I’m sure she‘s desperate for a break.”

He offers a sharp grimace in response to this sentiment, knowing from almost two years of firsthand experience that patiently keeping watch over those Gem monarchs is no easy task. “Youch, my condolences. Feel free to send her in, I’d love to see her.”

Pearl nods in confirmation, and then slips out the doorway towards the observatory’s ramp. 

He enjoys what little is left of his soup as he waits. Thankfully, his system shows no signs of unrest, which allows him to finish the whole bowl. Good thing, too. He unfortunately recalls losing his breakfast earlier this morning amidst the blunt force of that spiked tail to his stomach, which means he’s had little to no food in him all day. Now, he’s no medical expert, (Connie would likely know the answer thanks to her mom, though), but surely that can’t be good for recovery.

Amidst his better wishes, his thoughts turn to all the social meetings and appointments he’d planned for today. He can’t imagine Pearl knew his itinerary well enough to contact each and every person he’d unintentionally blown off, so that means from all of their perspectives they waited and waited and he simply... never showed up. Like Mayor Nanefua. He was supposed to discuss logistics about Little Homeschool’s eventual opening with her at town hall immediately after the corrupted Gem mission. Peridot. He agreed to meet with her at one of the ancient drop ship sites to assist in de-arming it for safety purposes. Lars. Before all this happened, he was genuinely looking forward to hanging out with Lars and the rest of his Gem gang this afternoon. And because he was reckless and got himself cracked on what should’ve been the most straightforward mission of all time, he let them all down. He groans, slumping backwards until his head clunks against the wall. _Ughhh. Stupid, stupid Steven._ Now, where on earth’s his phone? He should probably start to clear up this mess.

Steven places his empty bowl on the tray on his nightstand, and begins dutifully searching the tabletop. Before his search can bear any fruit, however, Amethyst bursts into the room, toting one of the handheld diamond communication lines they store in the observatory. (Blessedly, this one comes _without_ self-destruct functionality. Times have sure changed since the daring days when Peridot emphatically called Yellow Diamond a clod.) 

“Hey, little man!” she chimes when they meet each other’s glance, her relieved smile admittedly rather infectious. “It’s great to see ya’ up and at ‘em again.”

He offers a bashful laugh, twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck. “Y-yeah, I’m—“

“Yo, what’s this here, though?” she interjects, bee-lining to his nightstand to stick her nose in his dinner tray. Her face falls the moment she sees inside the bowl, which he’s dutifully scraped empty. “Dude, come on, you didn’t leave any for me?”

“What? Nooo,” he says in mock protest, his voice wavering in laughter. “I already ate it.”

Amethysts reaches forward and gives him a solid noogie, ruffling his hair until its ends are all mussed. Even though his head still hurts he can’t help but giggle, playfully batting her arms away. Hah, typical quartz sibling affection. Gotta love it.

“Nah, I’m just goofin’!” she grins. “You’ve lost _enough_ food today on the forest floor, so I wouldn’t be stealin’ any even if I could.”

“Thank you for _that_ reminder,” he comments with an eye roll, lips pursed as he tries not to muse too hard about the uncomfortable burning sensation associated with that abhorrent experience, least he vomit all over again.

Meanwhile, Amethyst’s high spirits finally hit their crest and begin to break like the distant din of white water waves offshore as she nervously tussles with the crystal octahedron clasped in her palm.

“But, ah... ignoring all that, Blue D said she wanted to talk to you?”

She presses the diamond line into his possession with fettered urgency, the posture of her hands vocalizing an unspoken, underlying message of _“oh stars, I’m going insane babysitting these ancient Gem monarchs, please take this from me NOW.”_ Or at least, that’s what he gleans from it. To be fair, his months of near-constant interaction with them may make him a little biased on the subject.

“Probably best not to keep her waiting. We can catch up later,” she says, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before pulling away.

And with that she hurtles down the stairs into the main living area, ditching him within this empty room with the equivalent of an intergalactic phone that dials direct to who he can only describe as his honorary Gem grandparents. Sure, so maybe most Gems don’t have “children” in the same manner humans do, and _maybe_ the Diamonds themselves have no clear understanding of the classification of human familial relationships, (despite their somewhat touching attempts at learning a few details about Earth culture for his sake), but the quasi-parental role they played in his mother’s life is undeniable from his perspective. So is their “out-of-touch” nature, a common stereotype he sees played up for drama with fictional grandparents on TV shows all the time. He’s not sure how he feels yet that this stereotype rings so true with his own.

Regardless, if Blue wants to talk, then there’s no time like the present. As much as he dreads it, this conversation is bound to happen eventually, of course— and after all their concern, the diamonds more than deserve an update on his well-being. Steven swallows hard, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the crystal as he summons the courage to dial, desperately attempting to not let the sour notes of their last interaction tint the underlying sentiment of this one before it can even begin. 

Eventually, he sucks in a deep breath and activates the communicator. The octahedron glows a soft blue, and after a few seconds’ time during which the signal is crossing to the far edge of the galaxy, projects a view screen above its upper point. 

The image is fuzzy at first, but sharpens fast once Blue connects from her end. She immediately smiles as she looks upon him, elated emotion running so deep within her that for once, it even manages to reach her eyes. 

“Steven! I’m so glad to see that you’re okay,” she begins in full earnesty, clasping her hands together in front of her gem. 

He doesn’t respond at first, finding himself too distracted by the scenery, and by the radical juxtaposition of Blue’s current demeanor to her behavior last night. Given the glimpse of White’s empty throne behind her shoulder, he’s pretty sure she’s sitting alone in the ballroom, the sight of which can’t help but stir up unwanted memories of the brief argument they had right before he rushed off to visit home, b-because... oh stars, he was _right there,_ standing right in her presence when she reflexively forced her tears on him. 

She wanted to throw him a massive planet-wide ball honoring his sixteenth birthday, wanted to organize a whole coalition of Gems to set up the venues, the entertainment, the food, everything— and when he finally managed to squeeze a word in edgewise between all her unfettered excitement to inform her that he wished to spend his birthday celebrating with his family on Earth instead, she was inconsolable. Crying. Raising her voice. Blaming him of running away from her just like Pink did all those years ago. In the heat of the moment he believed he was simply standing up for himself and his preferences, but fast forward to the present and he can’t help but question the etiquette of his own response more and more as the cruel minutes tick onward. Did he do the right thing, or did he only cause her undue emotional harm? Will Blue Diamond accept his stance moving forward, or will she press the topic again? (After all, he knows her desire to tether him to Homeworld for his birthday is merely a symptom of her greater longing for him to live in the palace with them permanently.) And if she does, is he even allowed to express his opinions when he’s outright walking a tightrope every day he’s in the public eye, single-handedly balancing Gemkind’s delicate political situation in both hands as he slowly but surely advances towards the light on the other side? He _must_ be careful. One wrong move, and everything he’s been working towards for the past year could topple, could cause a disastrous vacuum.

No matter the personal cost, isn’t it his duty as savior of the galaxy to ensure that doesn’t happen?

Gems are _depending_ on him.

And as much as he wants to be selfish and dig his heels into the ground to ensure his own comfort for once in his life, he’s not sure that’s even an option anymore.

Steven grips onto the edge of his bedspread with his free hand, clamping his fingers in tight, reveling in the sensation of skin shifting against downy fabric. It’s just enough to tether him back to the present. To ensure he doesn’t lose himself in the riptides of bitter memory. But by the time his scattered awareness clues in on the fact that he’s probably remained silent for an overly awkward period of time, it’s much too late, and in due consequence, he mentally returns to the scene to find that Blue has kept on talking with or without his conscious attention.

Hah. Serves him right, honestly.

“—was just explaining the details of the _disastrous_ mission you embarked on today,” she says, making small gestures in embellishment of her soft-spoken words, “when your Pearl entered to announce you were awake. I’ll let the others know as soon as I can.”

He swallows, his throat hopelessly dry, as dry as the fine granules of sand scattered across the upper shore on an intensely hot summer’s day.

“I, um—“ he manages, voice wavering. (And quite honestly, feeling stupid for it, in her presence. How many months has he spent perfecting his technique for confidently speaking with the diamonds, again?) He adjusts his hold on the octahedral crystal as he vies to regain some sense of inner balance for the rest of this conversation. “So Yellow and White know too, then?”

Blue leans upon one of the armrests of her throne, releasing a weary sigh. It’s only then that he begins to take note of the residual anxiety blanketed across her form— the almost bruise-like shadows under her eyes appearing deeper than usual, her normally flawless hair now frizzy and unkempt— and if he’s honest, he struggles to understand how he truly feels, knowing that the news of his injury could affect her in such a soul-striking manner. (He often wonders if it’s fair of him, interacting with them in such a detached business-like fashion when, despite their intermittent shortcomings and confusions, they’ve offered him nothing but love and adoration in return since the beginning of era 3.)

“Oh, they were the first to know. Yellow answered the initial call, and White, she was hosting a court session with some of the fusion Gems just next door. I—“ She presses the pad of her thumb to the center facet of her gemstone, pausing in her words a moment to take a sharp inhale. “I only learnt about what nearly happened to you a fragment of a rotation ago, upon my return to the palace.” 

His brows furrow, suddenly realizing the fact that, beyond Blue, the throne room she sits in sounds desolate. Void of all Gems. “Where is everyone, anyways?”

“Distracting themselves, mostly. Last I heard, they’re busy trying to locate any of Pink’s essences that might still remain within our stores, just in case something like this should happen again. Of course I dread the very thought, but...”

Her voice wavers with just the hint of a sob, as she momentarily breaks from her explanation to regain her composure. 

(Steven is ashamed to admit that he fails to mask the instinctual tightening of his shoulders as he sees fresh tears brim upon the digitized representation of her visage, even though logically he knows there’s no chance her influence could cross all these light years to weigh down on him here. Not on Earth. Not this far away.)

“...I couldn’t bear to lose another,” she manages, and— after dabbing those teardrops away with her curled fingers— glances back up to meet his gaze with those boundless, melancholy eyes. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, chest growing tighter at the untimely reminder of his mom’s passing, an inseparable facet of his life history he still hasn’t managed to process yet. Perhaps subconscious in nature, his free hand creeps its way under his shirt to rest protectively over his gem. “No one deserves to go through that pain again.”

“Y’know, that’s why I really do wish you’d consider our offer to permanently live with us on Homeworld, in the safety of the palace,” she mentions then, clasping her hands together as if this were a dawning, glorious new idea Steven’s never heard before. “After all, I’m sure none of this would’ve happened under the protection of the guard.”

“Uh, I don’t thi—“

“Can you imagine it, all four diamonds finally reunited under the same stars?” Blue continues, a wide smile passing gracefully across her lips as she waxes on about this indulgent dream of hers. “We could grow you an orchard, so you have as much food as you need, and your pebbles could make you whatever clothes or luxuries you desire. And of course, there’s still the matter of your annual birth celebration to attend to...”

Steven can’t help it. He can’t manage to stop himself, no matter how pathetic he knows his reaction is.

In the light of this topic’s re-emergence, he zones out again. He slips directly into the welcoming embrace of inattention and subconscious thought. His head’s pounding, the pulsing discomfort birthing a brand new species of ache right behind his eyes. It’s miserable, but no more miserable than the idea of the future Blue Diamond has been continuously pushing for the last few months. No more miserable than the idea of being trapped on a planet with individuals who — no matter how hard they try and change their habits for his sake in the present— have all deeply hurt him at various stages of his life. And sure, he _knows_ this is a twisted, selfish sentiment for him to harbor, because of how Pink abandoned them in the past, because of how all three of them have worked so tirelessly these past months to reorganize their entire way of life: to actually see him as his own person instead of a shadow of his mom, to healthily process their own emotions instead of tearing others down, to openly invite fusions and off-colors into the light of society. They’ve genuinely changed for the better. He should be overjoyed about that, shouldn’t he? He should be happy for them.

And yet joy is the last thing he feels when faced with the genuine possibility that he might not be strong enough in his own convictions to stand up to Blue’s desires, that he might one day find himself trapped long-term on a planet that— albeit picturesque in its own unique way— he doesn’t call home, his feet rooted to the dead soil by thorny vines born of his own timidness. 

Somehow, in the face of all his fears, he swears he’s transforming into a coward.

He didn’t used to be. The Steven Universe of Era 2 wouldn’t dare stand down from making his opinions heard, would fight for what he believes in until star-shine glistens overhead and all denizens of the galaxy could experience true freedom.

So what the hell is his hang up now? He knows exactly how he wants to respond, so why can’t he simply summon the courage to do it? Why can’t this be as intuitive as summoning his shield, or a bubble?

Why does he have to feel so... so _twisted up_ inside about this?

Steven clenches his teeth then, a sudden spike of residual pain arcing up his spine. Yikes, okay. That doesn’t feel great. Maybe he’s been sitting up for too long, and needs to lay down and rest again. 

Or else, maybe after he’s finally done discussing matters with Blue he could...

_Wait a minute._

The fingers of his free hand begin to knead the blanket in his lap with a new wave of gusto as he comes to an abrupt revelation about his present condition that could change literally everything.

Stars, that’s perfect. That’s not even a _lie!_ Why on Earth didn’t he think of this before?

He was severely injured this morning. The gemstone at his core outright could’ve shattered, without treatment. Surely any fellow Gem would understand if he says he needs some extra time to fully recover? Perhaps even... the rest of the week? Including his birthday? And on top of that, this extra time would allow him all the privacy he needs to figure out how to confidently and politely decline Blue’s recurring request to live on Homeworld. He’d literally be hitting two targets with one shield!

He nibbles at the inside of his bottom lip as he considers how best to phrase this.

“Hey, Blue?” he calls, immediately garnering her full gaze. “Um—“

Although briefly squirming like an insecure child under those intense azure irises, he stamps down that devilishly tempting urge to go silent and recede into the shadows of this conversation again, wholly compliant to whatever she says. No, he _has_ to speak his mind. No positive change in this relationship will ever occur unless he resolves to stand up for himself, no matter how many reminders it takes. His muscles grow tense as his mouth bobs open once again.

“About the whole birthday celebration thing, I, uh...” 

His tongue grows excruciatingly dry in his anxiety, and he’s suddenly struck with the reminder that he never drank the water Pearl left on his dinner tray. Pity, that. He swallows, throat tight and scratchy, and continues. 

“I think it’s very kind of you to offer hosting a ball for me on Homeworld, but as of right now, I... I’m very, _very_ sore, and need to stay at my home for a few days to recover from my injury, okay? I promise I’ll visit in person as soon as I’m physically able to,” he rapidly blurts, recognizing a glint of hurt coat Blue’s otherwise attentive expression, “just... _after_ my birthday.”

The diamond lets her weary eyes flutter shut as she takes a moment to soak in everything he just said. Honestly, he can’t think to guess what’s running through her mind right now, and he’s not sure he wants to. Eventually however, she offers an extended sigh, its watercolor edges brushed with an air of melancholy.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replies, offering him a watery smile. “We wouldn’t want to upset your fragile organic system so soon after such an ordeal, now would we? Very well, then. I’ll leave you to rest.”

“Thank you,” he says, his shoulders finally loosening up from their overwrought state.

“We can do something to celebrate when you’re back on Homeworld, just the four of us. In fact, I’ve been talking with White, and we have the _perfect_ idea for a gift!”

Steven gives a small nervous laugh, fiddling with the back of his shirt collar. “Hahah, yeah? Well, I guess I’ll look forward to it. Anyways, uh... thanks for checking in. Bye.”

His heart still pounding despite the overwhelming sense of resolution, his thumb presses the bottom point of the octahedron inwards, ending the call. He gently sets aside the communicator on his nightstand, next to his empty soup bowl. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, he flops backwards on his bed with his arms stretched wide and gives a sharp, celebratory cackle of relief. He... he finally did it! He spoke his mind. He stood up to Blue’s headstrong desires, successfully reasserted his intentions. Set clear boundaries, just like Amethyst said he should. And as his reward, maybe now he can celebrate his birthday at home without guilt hanging like a weighty anvil over his head. Just maybe. He smiles, allowing his sore body to sink right into the plush cocoon of his mattress. 

For the first time today, things are finally on the up-and-up.

And so that pattern continues through the rest of the evening. It’s not long after his call with Blue that his dad returns from the store, not even bothering to put the frozen and refrigerated foods in their proper temperature controlled places before bounding upstairs to check on him upon the call of his name. No amount of detailed description could ever hope to intimately capture the full spectrum of sheer elation and love Dad unloads on him in the precious minutes that follow, but by the end of it his father’s sobbing in his arms, exhausted tears staining the collar of his pajama shirt as they clutch to each other with iron clad grips. At this point, the only way Steven can hope to respond is to act as nothing more but a solid rock, if only to reassure him that he’s alive, he’s well, he’s _here._

The two of them spend a good chunk of the remaining evening together, watching reruns of Under the Knife at the foot of his bed while nibbling on some cheddar popcorn. It’s rejuvenating, honestly. _Stars,_ is it rejuvenating. Somehow it seems like an eternity since they’ve been able to just... live _life_ together, even in the simplest of ways. They’ll share a dinner here and there when he visits home, sure— a video call from another planet every week or so, yes— but there’s something so fundamentally irreplaceable about physically leaning against your loved ones and spending a tangible amount of time _with_ them that he’s sorely missed over his busy months as Era 3’s ambassador. It’s special. Something to cherish. And something he dearly hopes to engage in with his family and friends a lot more as his immediate duties with the Diamonds wind to a close.

At some point in the middle of their fourth episode, Steven finally finds his phone. It was in his jacket pocket, of course— the new pink wool one he left slung over his desk chair before leaving on the corrupted Gem recovery mission this morning. With that retrieved, he makes sure to text a quick update to all the friends he missed seeing today. Even though logic tells him getting cracked wasn’t entirely his fault, it’s hard to dodge the temptation of guilt. Thankfully though, with the rest of the week now scrubbed entirely free of Homeworld stuff, perhaps he can reschedule a few of these gatherings. 

The rest of his night is uneventful. 

The Gems pop in and out to check on him, otherwise attending to their own obligations. Over the comforting backdrop of the television, Dad gushes about the concert he’s organized in town next week for Sadie Killer and the Suspects. Says he’s hopeful it’ll be a sellout. In return, he provides lush descriptions of some of the distant former colonies (now free planets) he’s gotten to visit as part of his political service. There’s some pretty stunning ones, he has to admit. The sightseeing he gets to engage in is a small but shining perk of his current responsibilities.

At ten, the TV is turned off. They hug and part ways, his dad quietly shuffling to the bathroom downstairs to brush his teeth and throw on a sleep shirt.

His headache is almost gone by now, having reduced to nothing more but a faint aura.

He’s standing outside on the porch enjoying some fresh, salty air before bed when Amethyst quietly slides into place alongside him, seeking his affection. She wraps her arms tight around his torso, burying her face against his shoulder. He reciprocates in kind. She doesn’t cry like Dad did, however. She doesn’t even speak. Rather, her purposeful silence ripples through his soul more than any concrete word or phrase ever could. Innately, he knows what she’s asking.

“I’m okay now,” he murmurs softly, blinking away his own budding tears while his expression is still hidden from her. “You healed me, I’m okay.”

“You’re a big liar, y’know that?” she says, voice muffled.

He rolls his eyes, pulling away from her embrace. “Fine, fine. I’m still a little sore. ‘Ya happy?”

Amethyst frowns, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she shifts her stance to lounge against the railing. “I’d be happier if none of that ever happened in the first place.”

Her frank statement hangs amidst the wind like a tattered flag upon an abandoned battlefield. Steven swallows, the resulting lump settling uneven in his throat.

(For a second he almost feels sick again, a surge of lingering discomfort churning at his core.)

“Yeah...” he sighs, staring off into the dim ocean horizon and forcing himself to acknowledge her unfortunate experience with this type of injury. “Yeah. I’m sorry if that brought back any bad memories for you.”

She scoffs. “Ch’yeah, so... I’m not gonna say it didn’t suck, but. It’s over now, y’know? I’ll deal. You don’t have to apologize for it, or anything.”

Long pause. His quartz sibling threads her fingers together as she leans against the chipping wood, silently tussling with herself under the ebbing solidarity of the ocean tides. A significant stretch of time passes between them before she finally takes it upon herself to speak again.

“‘S’not like it was _your_ fault, anyways.”

His chest tightens upon recognition of that familiar self-blame inherent in her tone. If he were a stronger, better person, he might take it upon himself to chip away at the walls of that insecurity with love and reassurance, to be the kind, encouraging Steven he used to be. But he’s tired, and he’s lived long enough to acknowledge by now that perfectly formed words can’t fix everything. Not immediately, at least. People are complicated. _He’s_ complicated. And sometimes the best one can manage is to simply act as a supportive companion to another.

Starlight glittering overhead, and the cool coastal breeze tussling at their hair, he joins Amethyst at the balcony and rests his cheek on her shoulder just like he used to do when he was little. Together, enveloped in a tension-filled silence, they watch the waves together. Watch the gulls pick at old food scraps further up shore, closer to the edge of the cliffs.

“Hey, what kind of gem was it, by the way?” he asks eventually. “You never said.”

“Ughhh,” she groans, dropping her head against the wood with a soft clunk. “A dang sapphire. Literally no wonder why she was so slippery!”

Steven can’t help the bubble of oddly placed glee that rises within him upon her answer. He cracks a dopey grin, shaking his head at himself. A snicker passes his lips.

_A sapphire. Of **course** it was a sapphire. Gosh, isn’t that sweet, sweet vindication._

Her brow creases in confusion. “What?”

Perhaps finally cracking under months of accumulated stress, he breaks into peels of low laughter.

“What _is_ it? Dude, ya’ gotta tell meeee!” she cries, playfully rustling at his arm as he doubles over against the railing, clutching his sides as he wrests to catch his breath and respond.

“No, it’s- it’s not even funny,” he says, pushing past the final surge and gaining some sense of composure again. “I just... my guess was spot-on. I’ve never seen a corrupted sapphire, before that.” His demeanor falls sober in a snap, wholly humbled by the abrupt reminder of the vital task waiting in his future, a task that— alongside the Diamonds’ bottled essences— only he can hope to see through. “I hope she’ll be okay, once she’s healed. I’m not even gonna mention what happened, honestly.”

Amethyst visibly pales at his allusion to the incident this morning. To _‘what happened.’_ Hah. As if cushioning the truth in vague, non-specific language could at all erase the stark reality of what he went through. Sometimes he really is daft.

“Steven, I—“ she swallows hard, nibbling at her knuckles for a moment as she contemplates the greater details of whatever seems to be assailing her mind. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, okay? But... I have to at least ask. Do you, like... _remember_ anything?” 

He frowns, avoiding her direct gaze as he moves to lean against the balcony, overlooking the blustery shoreline.

“What, you mean about... everything after the fight? And at the, ah... at the fountain, yeah?”

Amethyst offers a hesitant nod, her eyes glossed with marked worry. Peering at the pinprick constellations above as he reflects on this question, Steven experimentally nudges scattered fragments of memory closer together, the seconds and minutes of that experience progressively locking into place until—

_The world bends and splinters within his sight, his dad and Amethyst’s tear-stricken faces phasing into each other as they sink ever further into the thickets of their fearful despair. He’s prone in their hold, hard light pulsing rampant through his veins, unregulated, unrestrained, stretching out from his broken gemstone like clawing, yearning fingers... his muscles taut at one moment and pliable at the next, wholly unable to exert control over his body as his every limb jitters and jerks, unable to staunch his hoarse sobs as he soaks in the cold, terrifying static of it all, and now his words are jumbled and backwards, and deep within he knows this with an intense clarity but he can’t help it, he can’t fix it, he can barely even **think,** he ca—_

Steven inhales evenly, purposefully not allowing his expression to flash even a minuscule micro-expression of residual fear. After all, it’s Era 3. Everyone’s supposed to find happiness and fulfillment now, which can’t happen when people are stuck dwelling on their shadowed past. Thus, Amethyst doesn’t need to be burdened with the knowledge of what he does or doesn’t know. That’s _his_ problem to shoulder, his boulder to carry.

And he refuses to force anyone else to carry the weight of his past for him. He _refuses_ to become like Blue, still stuck in a tempestuous pattern of pushing her emotions on everyone around her and making them feel like crap.

Perhaps it’s foolish, but he sorely wants to believe he’s better than her.

“Nope,” he says, feigning an unparalleled air of confidence as he shakes his head to confirm the negative. “Can’t remember a thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue and White's "birthday gift idea" is officially giving Steven the throne. We all know how that pans out, ahah.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading and supporting this story over the past year! It's been a lovely journey working to complete a more short-form multichapter fic for once. I laugh for the day when I genuinely thought I could make this a one-shot. Hah. Good joke.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [LadyScientist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyScientist/pseuds/LadyScientist) Log in to view. 




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